Negotiation 101 With Dr Elizabeth Weir, PhD
by Cora Clavia
Summary: Elizabeth had long ago noticed the inversely proportional relationship between the amount of work she got done and the amount of free time John Sheppard had.  Sparky, oneshot.


**Negotiation 101 With Dr. Elizabeth Weir, Ph.D.**

**Summary:** Sparky, oneshot. We always say Elizabeth "negotiates." John decides to find out exactly what that means.  
**Rating:** T  
**Spoilers:** Nope. This probably lies somewhere in season 2 or 3, but whatevs.  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own, or in any way profit from these characters; they belong to Stargate and TPTB, who are WHORES sometimes.

* * *

**SHOUTOUT and LOVE **to friend and lovely reviewer Codzwallop for making Elizabeth's French much better than mine. Mine = 2 semesters' worth; Codzwallop's = actually good. _Merci beaucoup, mon amie._

_

* * *

_**This is a little bit of nostalgia on my part. Remember years ago, when the Sparkysex was totally implied, before TPTB developed the whorish tendency of kicking Lizbeth off the show and out of John Sheppard's bed?**

…**I've been re-watching SGA from the beginning, and I teach two classes tomorrow, and rather than run through my lesson plans one last time – because let's face it, the university doesn't pay me nearly enough to care – I'm indulging myself. Join me.**

**

* * *

**Elizabeth was really, honestly, almost done with the month's finance allocation analysis and budget recommendations – and was trying to decide whether to request more turkey or ham – when John bounded into her office. Thanks to routine computer maintenance, including gate software, his team (and all the rest) was grounded for the time being. Her output of normal reporting had decreased since the beginning of the maintenance. She had long ago noticed the inversely proportional relationship between the amount of work she got done and the amount of free time John Sheppard had.

But, as she watched him striding across the control room, if she were really being completely honest with herself…it wasn't an unpleasant sight.

"Can I help you?"

He beamed at her, settling into his usual spot on the corner of her desk. She was beginning to wonder if there was a permanent imprint of his rear there. Though if she were still really being completely honest with herself…it still wasn't an unpleasant sight.

"Whatcha doin'?"

She looked down. "Do you think we should request the same amounts of ham and turkey, or should we –"

"More turkey."

"I don't really know why I asked." She quickly typed something, then sat back to look at him. "_Now_ can I help you?"

"I have a question."

"What is it?"

"Well –" he didn't seem to know exactly how to phrase whatever it was he wanted to ask. "You have forty-seven advanced degrees – " she laughed – "and you spend thousands of hours writing about ham and turkey and bottled water and toilet paper."

So far, no question. "So?" she prompted.

"Your background is negotiation. I know that was your specialty at the UN and all. I know what the word means, but..." he paused, thinking. "How exactly do you _do_ it?"

"How do I negotiate?"

He nodded. "You've never really told us much about how you do it. And I figure there's got to be more to it than just walking in and saying 'please.'"

"It's true."

"So how do you negotiate?"

"The key is to make the other side think they want to do something, when in reality it's just what _you_ want them to do."

"It's just manipulation?"

"Partially."

"What about in more high-risk scenarios? What if you have to bluff when you talk?"

"You hope they don't call it." At his incredulous look, she shrugged. "Well, what else can you do? I can speak like Shakespeare, but it won't defend a village or create food and water. Sometimes you just have to pretend you know you're going to win and play it by ear."

"That's not what I expected."

"It's part psychology, part observation, part research, part guessing, and part acting."

"And nerves of steel?"

She smiled. "That too."

"I have a new appreciation of this. It's like a video game for your brain. You're all badass."

That made her laugh. The UN was many things; she'd never considered 'badass' to be one of them. "But regardless of the other side or what you're discussing, you never make a threat. Not an explicit one, at least."

"Like Tom Hagen." Seeing her confusion, he shrugged. "In _The Godfather_."

"Oh, that's right." She nodded. "I read that years ago."

"Great movies, too."

"So they are."

He grinned. "So what's the biggest feat you ever pulled off?"

"Without divulging top-secret information," she mused, "I can only say that once I worked with a team that stopped a nuclear war."

"Are you kidding?"

"I really can't discuss it."

He shook his head. "All with a convincing face? I am _never_ playing poker with you."

Elizabeth laughed. "You're in luck. I never cared much for poker. I prefer to put my powers to more responsible use."

"With great power comes great responsibility."

She eyed him suspiciously. "I assume that's from another movie?"

"Why would you think that?" She twitched an eyebrow upward. "Well…yeah, it's from _Spiderman_."

"Well, movie or not, it's true."

He nodded, falling silent for a moment. Then he brightened. "So show me an example."

Apparently the water use analysis sitting in front of her, waiting for review, approval and a signature, was on hold till this afternoon; the colonel was now expecting demonstrations. "How?"

"Say you wanted me to – I don't know," he postured with exaggerated innocence, "go away. Let's assume you want me to stop bothering you and leave you alone."

Her lips quirked. "Assume away, Colonel."

He shot her a mock-baleful glance. "'Lizbeth, you wound me."

"This is purely hypothetical."

"Right." He leaned back in his chair. "So I'm sitting here, perfectly comfortable and enjoying watching you work. How would you proceed in order to convince me to go away?"

"It's not _exactly_ the kind of situation I normally handle."

"Humor me?"

She rolled her eyes, but decided to comply. After all, he had deployed the puppy-dog eyes. "Well, it would be in my best interest to convince you that you really want to go somewhere else."

"Such as?"

"I'm sure you'll be delighted with the new water filtration system Rodney's been working on. He's supposed to be here in a few minutes to explain the entire procedure. That's why I was hoping to get these analyses done before lunch; he said the demonstration would take a few hours."

John wrinkled his mouth in discomfort. "That might actually work."

"Yes, but it's more than just bluffing. It's smart bluffing."

"How's that?"

"I have to take everything into consideration." She thought for a moment. "I know you have a position of authority which you take seriously, and that you've had issues with authority in the past. Playing tough probably won't work for me. You're smart, but you're also easy-going. And you get bored easily when you have nothing to do."

He nodded. "Go on. This is interesting."

"So I want you to go, but you want to stay. I have to create a reality for you in which you perceive the benefits of going are greater than those of staying."

"So do it," he shot back, leaning forward. "Make me want to leave."

This was proving to be a difficult one, actually. Elizabeth didn't want him to leave. And she wasn't sure exactly how to get him to want to go.

Then it hit her – she was overlooking one very important fact. She was reasonably sure that she had John Sheppard wrapped around her little finger. Maybe instead of convincing him _he_ wanted to go, she should simply convince him it was what _she_ wanted him to do…

…and that required a form of persuasion she had not learned in a class in an institute of higher learning.

So she leaned towards him, seeing his mild surprise (_he_ invaded _her_ personal space normally, not the other way around), and carefully let the v-neck of her loose shirt hang down just right. And she could clearly see his eyes flicker downwards. Her lips parted slightly, and she bit her lower lip before speaking.

"John…" His eyes had risen slightly. Only to her mouth, though. The lip-bite worked every time. "We both know why you're really here."

"Why I'm really here?"

"I know what you really want. And we both know it's not going to happen here."

He was staring at her in utter shock. She stood, crossed in front of her desk, and leaned back on it, making sure her knees were just far enough apart, resting her hands on the desk behind her so that her breasts were perfectly presented and he couldn't help but think about pushing her back down onto the desk and doing something other than talking. She could tell. His eyes were glazing over. It was working. On to the rest of the plan.

"Give me five minutes to finish up here. You go get ready."

"But –" he swallowed "– can't we just –"

He didn't want to wait. Elizabeth felt an instant rush of genuine arousal. Dammit, this wasn't the plan.

…well, his reaction was still something she could work with.

She walked towards him, watching his eyes slowly rise to meet hers.

"No, John. We have to get out of here. Now."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not going to be quiet."

He let out a strangled groan as her fingers grazed the hard plane of his chest. Even through his shirt, she could feel the sudden hitch as the muscles tightened under her. Now, for the cherry on top. She traced one finger over the outside of his ear, feeling his sharp intake of breath at the touch, before she leaned just a bit further and whispered, letting her lips brush his skin ever so softly.

"So? Did it work?"

It took him a second to snap his attention back. He looked up, his eyes hazy for a moment before a grin slowly overtook his face. "Absolutely. I would have gone anywhere if you'd asked."

"I've had some practice."

"Well, color me impressed. And I always thought you were so innocent."

"I'm full of surprises."

"Do you often deploy these dirty tactics?" His eyes had dropped again, and she couldn't help but smile.

"I will neither confirm nor deny that, Colonel."

There was a tap at the door, and she looked up to find one of the younger electrical engineers, a young woman she had made a point of chatting with whenever possible. Elizabeth had needed to brush up on her French; the computer engineer had needed a friend. The young woman nodded politely to John before turning back to Elizabeth, who smiled at her, unnerved that Hélène had walked in while John Sheppard was staring at her breasts. Every woman understood. Besides, the engineer was both intelligent and discreet. "Excuse me for a second, John. _Salut, _Hélène_. Tu as terminé avec les ordinateurs?_"

"_Pas encore, mais ne t'en fais pas, nous aurons fini avant midi."_

"_D'accord. Merci."_

_De r__ien."_ Hélène smiled and glanced at John before looking back at Elizabeth. "_Il veut quelque chose?"_

"_Toujours._"

"_De toi?"_

"_C'est possible."_

"_Tu as d'la chance. Il as des p'tites fesses bien fermes et une coupe saut du lit, non? Ton bureau à l'air trés resistant, chérie. Tu devrais l'essayer. Il n'dirait sûrement pas 'non.'"_ She left with a wink.

"You're blushing." John grinned. "What was all that about?"

Elizabeth straightened in her chair, knowing it was useless to deny it. Her cheeks were hot. "The computers are almost done."

"I didn't realize diagnostics made you blush."

"It's nothing." She bit back her smile and tried to distract him. "So why the sudden interest in negotiating?"

He shrugged. "It just occurred to me that I don't really understand everything you do. You pretty much know everything about my job. I wanted to know more about yours."

"Well, I also worked as a translator. I do more translating around Atlantis than I do negotiating most days."

"Translating I get. But we always just say you 'negotiate,' and I've never really known what it means."

"You've seen me reason with people."

"Yeah, but you've always made me leave when you get into the real high-stakes stuff." He huffed in mock-indignation. "As if I would embarrass you."

"Like you didn't embarrass me in front of the Krosni princess?" she shot back, arching an eyebrow.

"All I said was hello! How was I supposed to know they considered it a proposition?"

Elizabeth grinned. "It took me three hours in the royal council to convince them to forgive it." It was sort of true. In an hour, she had managed to convince them that it was completely unintended…but the only way they'd accept that he didn't want to bed their daughter was to believe that he was already taken. She had _slightly_ misled the royal council. And she had only really gotten uncomfortable when the king had kindly offered to let her and John stay the night in one of the palace's private sex suites, complete with scented oils, firelight, and a nubile, naked attendant to offer them assistance, massage, or a threesome, should they be interested. It had taken her two hours to politely decline.

…with absolutely no hesitation, of course.

"Besides, negotiations are like verbal chess but not as fast-paced. You'd probably find them very dull, John."

"I'd still like to see one."

"Alright. Next time, I'll call you my assistant and bring you in."

"Thanks." He grinned, pleased, and stood up. "I should probably let you get back to writing about turkey sandwiches. Those are very important."

"True."

"I'll come get you for dinner, them."

"Sounds good. See you later."

He made to leave, and paused. "Oh, and Elizabeth?" She looked up. "She's right. _Je ne dirais pas 'non.'_"

**END**

**

* * *

Author's Note:** Like I said, I'm humoring myself here. Hope you enjoyed.

Translation of the French - again, love to Codzwallop:

"Hello, Helene. Are you done with the computers?"

"Not yet, but there are no problems. We'll be done before noon."

"Of course. Thank you."

"You're welcome. [looks at John] He wants something?"

"Always."

"From you?"

"Possibly, I think."

"You're lucky. He has a tight ass and bed hair, right? Your desk is sturdy, sweetheart. You should try it. He certainly wouldn't say 'no.'"

And at the end: "Oh, and Elizabeth? She's right. I wouldn't say 'no.'"


End file.
